


and from my ashes, flowers shall grow

by sundayrice



Series: welcome to the night circus [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Developing Friendships, Flowers, Gen, Other, Pre-Canon, and maybe having a crush on her too who knows, but best read if you're caught up, collecting flowers with your best bud, featuring yasha braiding her hair with flowers again, i wrote this after the ep 27 talks machina, implied crushes, no direct spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-06-19 05:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15503436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundayrice/pseuds/sundayrice
Summary: In between circus stops and the long cart rides of the night, Mollymauk finds himself intrigued by the otherworldly woman hiding behind the grandeur of the tent's display.“I got one for you too,” she says, walking up to Molly and placing the snapdragon behind his ear. It quickly falls out, though he manages to catch it in his hand and the two of them share a laugh.It might be the first time he's ever heard Yasha laugh. And what a gorgeous laugh she has.





	and from my ashes, flowers shall grow

**Author's Note:**

> so at the sdcc panel, someone asked what kind of flowers yasha would leave at molly's grave and taliesin said snapdragons. so naturally i took that and ran with it. have some more molly/yasha friendship (or more, if you'd like). i can't help myself, they're just so soft and gentle with each other and i love it so much.

It hasn’t been too long since a mysterious, otherworldly woman, found her way into the circus.

In many ways, she seems to melt into the midnight, always trying to make herself unseen among crowds. She hides behind the grandeur of the circus tent, overtaken, drowned out by its color. In an odd way, she blends in well with the frenzy of the circus. Unseen, ironically because she was so different.

Frequently he tries to make conversation with her, more so than the other circus folk. And as far as Molly knows, she doesn’t speak to anyone else, except the brief, casual exchanges she shares with Gustav. Business-like, and hardly revealing of her true nature.

While she seems to make herself closed off, Molly can't help but feel a radiating sort of softness and gentleness from her being. Stern as she stands, he's seen her a few times, off in the distance and staring fondly at silken flowers from the rolling hills and deep valleys. In those moments, her face opens up, soft pinks spreading across her cheeks and a tenderness in her voice unlike what he had ever heard before.

Or, without any eloquence or flavor, he'd say she's pretty cute.

Luckily _something_ he's done must've coaxed it out of her. Slowly but surely, Yasha’s begun to confide more and more in him. And more and more, as she rests under the leafless oak trees, she extends one hand and invites him to sit next to her.

This time, while the cart has taken rest on the side of the road, he notices her crouched down with her leather-bound book. It hadn’t been too long since he had given the book to her. _“You can have this,”_ he had said, pulling out the small leather-bound book from his sac. _“Can't say I've ever cared much for reading. But I think you can put it to good use.”_

She took it cautiously, looking a bit perplexed and continuing to simply stare at the cover like it was some manner of an ancient artifact. Though Molly would hardly consider himself literate, he knew it to be a Common book on manners and etiquette. A tongue-in-cheek sort of gift.

But to his surprise, she seems to look at it longingly and takes great care of it. In one hand, she holds a pencil and in the other a few flowers she had just plucked from the ground.

She stands back up, a few red and purple snapdragons braided into her hair and one sitting behind her ear. A few strands of Yasha’s hair fall over her face, though not enough to cover her strained, though definitely sincere, smile.

Molly has to turn away for a second, if only to hide how hot his face feels.

“I got one for you too,” she says, walking up to Molly and placing the snapdragon behind his ear. It quickly falls out, though he manages to catch it in his hand and the two of them share a laugh.

It might be the first time he's ever heard Yasha laugh. And what a gorgeous laugh she has.

“Thank you, dear,” he says. “It’s beautiful.”

She smiles faintly, though it doesn’t fail to catch his diligent eyes. “It reminded me of your arm,” she says, pointing to Molly’s rolled up sleeve.

Truthfully, he’s always taken a liking to snapdragons; colorful as him and twice as gaudy, if he ever thought such a thing could be possible. He stares longingly at the snapdragon, a beautiful mess of reds and purples. A mirror image of the flowers incorporated into his tattoo, even their soft petals bleed with the same intensity as the eyes emerging from his skin.

He notices a few other flowers, tucked about in the folds of her clothes. Those too she takes with great care and presses them inside the pages of her book. Molly catches a glimpse of a few of them.

“Could I have a look at your collection?” he says.

Her face looks hesitant at first, He can't quite tell if that look on her face spells protectiveness or even just a slight sense of dread and worry. Quickly though, she becomes less tense and hands him the book.

The first flower seems to be wilting, but perhaps that only adds to its beauty rather than taking away from it. It's pressed over a large chunk of text and has a small, illegible inscription next to it. Molly can’t say he’s the most _well-versed_ in the world of flowers but can only assume it to be an orchid. He flips through the rest of the pages. A bright pink peony, a few dandelions here and there, and the exuberant mix of purple and red snapdragons she had found today. These flowers also have inscriptions next to them, though much like the others, Molly can't understand them, except for a small portion that seems to be his own name written in Common.

And much like the sprawling bundle of snapdragons that grow over the countryside, he knows that her collection will grow too. Whatever it becomes, he can’t wait to see it.

A distant voice, booming first but quieter soon afterward, ushers them back to the cart. They turn around in unison to see Gustav at the helm of the cart and waving his arms around theatrically.

As they begin to walk back, Molly playfully pats Yasha on the back. “Remind me to get some more flowers for you at our next rest stop,” he says.

Yasha simply hums in response, prodding at the book’s cover fondly. With the book now tucked under her arm, Yasha takes the last snapdragon sitting behind her ear and begins to form new braids with a few strands of loose hair. Seamlessly, she weaves the last flower in with the rest, like a decorative bouquet of flowers that frames her face.

Molly looks back at the flower still sitting in his palm. How it blends in with his tattoo, it almost appears to melt into his skin. Though the flower is already beginning to shrivel up at the corners, he thinks he can still find a good place to preserve it.

For someone like Molly, perhaps he's always been unsure about the need for sentimental keepsakes. Or maybe, it’s a slight tickle in the back of his head that worries it’ll all be gone again. But just this time, he’ll hold onto the snapdragon, to serve as a physical extension of his memory. One that he’ll take care not to lose.


End file.
